


panic room (hala hala)

by hongjoongies



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Choi San is Whipped, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I mean, Implied Sexual Content, Like, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Possible smut, Protective Choi San, Read at Your Own Risk, Shy Jung Wooyoung, They love each other, Whipped, and some teen wolf episodes, based loosely on panic room by au/ra, but - Freeform, constantly monitored ateez, hala san, hongjoong is kind of badass, i mean like, it could be, it’s fucked up, literally every type of hurt and comfort, mentions of self harm, no beta we die like their hopes and dreams of escaping, on the edge of psychosis sleep deprived, possible graphic self harm scenes, san is Exhausted, san is sleep deprived, san is tired, seonghwa is Whipped, specifically of the third season part two, spoilers for plot, take that as you will, they would die for each other, this is not a happy fic, twenty four seven, with a capital E, wooyoung is scared, wooyoung worries for san, you must obey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongjoongies/pseuds/hongjoongies
Summary: “𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮; 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”❦❦❦𝘖𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦... 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦.𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘶/𝘳𝘢.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 21
Kudos: 46





	1. hell raising, hair raising

jung wooyoung awakens with a jolt. his body is sore, and it takes him a few minutes to realize that he’s not in his bed. as a matter of fact, he’s not even in his room. as his eyes adjust to the bright light surrounding him, he realizes that he is on the floor of a hallway. he feels around the cold tiles of the floor, and in his tired haze, wonders where he is. where he is... 

“what the fuck,” he jumps up, as the thought hits him full force, “where am i?”

he feels his heartbeat rise as he searches aimlessly for an exit. the lights flicker, and there’s not a single human in sight. he picks up his pace, becoming more and more  panicked. 

“somebody! anybody! hello?” he shouts, looking around for something, anything, that could help him in this situation. 

everything is white and looks eerily pristine, however, his searching ceases when he spots a small door. or at least it looks like one, and if he hadn’t looked closely enough he probably would have missed it. the door is barely a shade duller than the rest, and the handle almost blends in with it. 

“thank you... thank you so much,” wooyoung exclaims to no one in particular.

he walks to the door, reaching for the handle and—

“hey!” a  hushed yet angry sounding voice whispers.

wooyoung looks around, and before he knew it, he was inches away from someone’s face.

“don’t touch that! are you serious right now?” the man hisses, pushing him harshly. he falls, but luckily catches most of the fall with his arms before the noise could cause any more commotion. 

wooyoung looks up, eyes wide and body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“san, stop,” a voice from behind him whispers, “look at him. he’s terrified. he’s probably a new... shipment.” the man, who wooyoung assumes is san, sighs and holds his hand out.

wooyoung grabs it and is lifted with ease.

“you better be lucky i’m feeling nice tonight, mingi. we don’t even know this person.” san snaps, glaring at the other man.

wooyoung turns around, thanking the other man, mingi, for not allowing san to completely ruin his life. mingi tells him that san is always like this and it’s not a big deal. san glares even harder.

the dark-haired man turns toward san, suddenly interested in the complete stranger whom almost annihilated him. 

“my name is wooyoung. i don’t know where i am, and i woke up here so i saw this door and i thought maybe i’d try it and then you came along a-and i don’t mean to cause any trouble i just—“

wooyoung didn’t realize until san was wiping the tears from his face that he was sobbing. the taller man’s face had become soft and his authoritative tone had gone out the window as he shushed the younger, who was now hyperventilating.

“hey, hey, look... it’s okay— wooyoung, is it?? it’s alright. i’m sorry for being aggressive,” san says, wrapping him tightly in a hug. he half expects the younger man to push him away, but instead he melts into sans embrace.

san knows that under “normal” circumstances it would be weird to hug a random stranger that he met just 10 minutes ago, but he also knows that this is not a normal situation. when san first woke up here, he was just like wooyoung; naive, scared, and angry. if he’s being honest, he’s still scared and angry.

he was the third of the now eight of them to show up in the building; after park seonghwa and kim hongjoong who woke up together, but alone. they had made a place for themselves after the initial panic, thankful that whatever abducted them cared enough about their wellbeing to supply necessities like food, water, clothing, and personal hygiene items.

all three of them had also learned the hard way to never try to escape.

san looks down at the younger man in his arms and sighs. wooyoung pulls away.

“thank you... uh, sorry about that. i’m just glad i’m not alone.” wooyoung sniffles, wiping his tears.

“san... what’s going on here? who is this? why is he crying?” a soft voice from behind asks.

“hongjoong-ah. it’s okay, his name is wooyoung. mingi thinks he’s a new shipment.” san bites his lip, choosing his words carefully. 

“shipment? we haven’t had a shipment in months... why would they do this now?” hongjoong sighs, running a hand through his now faded red hair. hands find their way around hongjoong’s waist and he smiles, pressing his body against that of his lover.

“hwa, my love, did we wake you?” hongjoong asks, playing with the rings adorning seonghwa’s knuckles.

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, placing a kiss on the man’s temple. “who’s this?” he nods his head towards wooyoung, eyeing him suspiciously.

“wooyoung. new shipment apparently.” hongjoong shrugs, and turns to face seonghwa. 

“why would we get a new shipment after all these months?” seonghwa questions, rocking from side to side to lull the tired man in his arms. 

“that’s what i said too, but mingi said-“ 

“mingi! why did you wake up without me?” a voice whines, and mingi blushes. 

“yunho-yah, i’m coming back to bed. i didn’t want to wake you.” mingi confesses, poking the blue haired man’s side playfully. 

“ _oh, yunho-yah, saranghae, i didn’t want to wake you, sleeping so peacefully,_ ugh, just admit you have feelings for each other already.” a voice mocks from down the hallway. 

“oh shut up, yeosang, you’re just mad that you’re single and lonely,” another voice snickers.

“jongho, are we not in a relationship..?”

“why do you think i just said that you’re single and lonely? poof, you’re single and lonely.”

“god, you’re exhausting... make up tomorrow morning?” 

“yep, goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

wooyoung is dumbfounded.

“okay okay, everyone quiet. they could hear us. go back to bed. wooyoung is staying with me.” san instructs, and everyone bids their farewells before dispersing.

“thank you,” wooyoung whispers shyly, finally taking a second to actually look at the apprehensive man and part of him is mad he did because he’s absolutely beautiful. well, as beautiful as a man running on two hours of sleep in the past week on the edge of having an insomnia induced psychotic episode could be. 

he has near raven black hair with silver tips, dark brown eyes, multiple ear piercings, and a sharp jawline. for some reason, wooyoung feels more comfortable around him than anyone else he’s met so far. 

“you’re welcome,” san starts, traversing the winding hallways slowly. “this place is, uh... well, i don’t know really. we call it the panic room. it’s like... there’s something watching us. bringing our darkest fears to life sometimes. it’s crazy. i’ve learned to live with mine, but it gets difficult.” 

wooyoung tilts his head. 

“your fear?” he whispers delicately, wondering what that has to do with anything.

“well, that’s complicated. i’m not really afraid of anything, but it’s like they’re trying to make me afraid. everyone here has a specific fear except for me. hongjoong is afraid of the dark, so sometimes if he does something wrong they’ll lock him in a dark room for an hour or so. seonghwa is afraid of heights, so they’ll dangle him over this well that’s a couple miles away-“ san is cut off by a terrified sounding wooyoung. 

“d-did you say MILES away? and still in this building?” 

“yep. like i said, this building is nearly impossible to escape. there has to be one because that’s how we get our food and stuff like that but i don’t know. why do you ask?” 

wooyoung is quiet for a minute, before taking a shaky breath. 

“i’m afraid of being trapped.” he sniffles, wiping the tears forming in his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“hey, i know this is scary, i know this is new to all of us, but that’s exactly why we are all protecting each other here. we look out for each other and try to warn each other at all possible times.”

san stops in front of a tinted purple sliding door, opening it with caution and pulling wooyoung inside.

“this is my cell, i guess. we each have nearly identical cells, except the doors are tinted to what seems to be each person’s favorite color, hence the purple.” 

wooyoung nods, looking around meticulously for any clues that this might be a bad idea. he can’t find any, so he relaxes his body a bit more. 

for a place so disturbingly fucked up, everything seems to be so clean and orderly and... nice? the rooms have their own bathroom and satisfactory looking bed. 

it looks... not bad. 

wooyoung must’ve said that out loud because he hears san chuckle next to him and say something along the lines of seonghwa probably being bothered by a speck of lint on the floor next to the bed. he laughs half-heartedly and plops onto the floor next to the bed. 

san looks at him like he’s crazy, and buries his body into the blankets on his bed before lifting them up and motioning with his head for wooyoung to join him. 

“you’re not sleeping on the floor. you need all the sleep you can get right now.” 

wooyoung side eyes him before sighing and giving in, sliding into the bed next to him. 

“i’m sorry, i’m just-“

“not used to this. i get it. i promise i won’t do or let anything happen to you. just wanna make sure you’re as safe and comfortable as can be in a situation like this. i’m sorry i can’t tell you as much as i want to right now, but it’s for your own safety and honestly your own sanity.”

wooyoung is too tired to register the last thing san says, but he waves it off and closes his eyes to doze off into a semi-peaceful sleep.

“thank you.” he whispers under his breath, slowly breathing in the scent of san and his room. it smells of lilac and peaches. 

“you’re welcome. if you find your room and are ever worried about being alone, you can find me here most of the time. goodnight, wooyoung.”

“goodnight... san.” 

wooyoung tries to will his brain to shut down, or at least shut up. it doesn’t work, so instead he resorts to counting sheep. when he reaches number 237, he gives up and listens to the sound of fluorescent lights buzzing in the hallway—  _fucking back rooms imposter_ ,  wooyoung thinks —  and the quiet ticking of the clock above them. 

twenty minutes pass.

silence was never so deafening in his life. 

“san?” 

“mmh?” 

“i cant sleep.”

“me neither.” 

“can you- can i... hug?” is all wooyoung manages to squeak out, his voice shaky. 

san throws an arm around him, bringing him closer to his side and wooyoung buries his face in his chest, quiet sobs wracking his smaller frame. he runs his hand through wooyoung’s hair and lets him cry, hushing him softly until his sobs turn into soft snores. 

sometimes there’s no need for words.

for the first time in months, san gets more than two hours of sleep. 

he gets six hours of sleep, to be exact. he would have gotten more if it weren’t for the aggressive pounding on the door, and the sound of new materials being placed on the shiny floor. 

“thirty minutes.”

the footsteps recede. 

san sighs, groggily trying to to rub the sleep out of his eyes, before he feels the weight of something preventing him. he panics for a minute, suddenly remembering the events of last night and talking a much needed deep breath. 

he looks down at the sleeping man in his arms and sighs, hating the idea of having to wake him up. 

“wooyoung, we gotta get up. thirty minutes,” he tries. 

the man doesn’t budge. 

“woo...”

silence. 

san hums softly, withdrawing his arm from under the man and sitting up. 

he runs his hand through wooyoung’s hair and shakes his head, clambering off of the soft bed to get dressed. 

“san... san, come back... don’t go, please?” 

san nearly pouts at the vulnerability of wooyoung’s voice. 

“i’m here, i’m not leaving. just getting dressed. you gotta get up. we have like 25 minutes to get out there.”

wooyoung sits up and crawls out of the bed, clumsily walking over to the pile of clothes on the floor. he’s surprised to see they look like actual outfits that he would wear. 

he decides on a black-and-white striped long-sleeved shirt with some khakis and a pair of stylish brown rimmed glasses. 

san, on the other hand, decides on a simple low cut v neck sweater, some loose black pants and some converse. 

wooyoung sighs and walks over to san, looking up at him.

“you look... better today. n-not that you didn’t look bad yesterday or anything it’s j-just that, i-i mean—“ 

“wooyoung.” san laughs quietly, smiling at the flustered man. 

“sorry.” he squeaks out, picking at the sleeves of his sweater. wooyoung was never very good at knowing when to pipe down. 

“it’s okay, i get what you mean. i haven’t slept as good as i did last night in a long time.” 

“oh... how much sleep do you usually get?” 

“probably like half an hour to an hour at most. but make that every other day. most of the time i’m just up trying to think of ways to leave this place,” san starts, taking the key from his back pocket and unlocking the dark purple door. “it’s been months though so at this point i should give up and just accept the truth,” san shrugs, moving the sliding glass door to the side and pulling wooyoung out into the hallway. 

wooyoung is quiet, listening to the sound of their footsteps hitting the shiny white floor. he thinks of when they first met yesterday. the way san was almost livid when he had seen him try to open that door. in his exhausted and anxious stupor from last night, he had forgotten to ask why he was so angry. now though, now he had time. 

“san?” wooyoung starts, licking his lips and sighing heavily. 

“yeah?” 

“uhm... do you remember yesterday. with the... uh, door?”  _wow, that’s not a stupid question at all, how would he ever remember a random stranger having a mental breakdown in the middle of the night over a door, fucking YESTERDAY_ ,  wooyoung wants to punch himself. 

“yeah. what about it,” san asks, not wanting to know where their conversation was going to go. 

“why... why were you so mad at me for touching it?”

san bites his lip thoughtfully, running a hand through his raven black hair, and looks down. “it’s a long story. it’ll just give you more anxiety if i tell you right now, so let’s do it later when you’re not brand new to everything, yeah?”

wooyoung huffs, pouting, but nods anyway. he doesn’t want a repeat of last night. 

“so, is this like... a school kind of thing. we have to wake up early and eat and stuff like that. we get in trouble if we don’t focus on the time?” he knows he’s asking a lot of questions, but really,  who fucking wouldn’t?

san makes a sharp left turn, and the white tiles fade to an inviting yellow,  too inviting , wooyoung thinks, it makes him want to puke.

“yes and no. they treat us like they care, but they don’t. nothing they do is out of the kindness of their heart. they talk to us like we’re normal people, feed us, give us space, et cetera, but they don’t like us. they do it to study us. they wanna see our reactions,” san shudders, “they talk to us like they mean it, ask us how our day is, what we did, what we  enjoyed ,” he scoffs, voice bitter. “for the most part, it’s okay. but sometimes we get tired.  _sometimes we just. get. tired. young-ah._ ” 

sans tone dips when he says the last part, and it makes wooyoung’s skin crawl, because he  knows  that tone of voice. he knows the _desperation, the ache, the pain of being_ _ tired. of giving up._

wooyoung is suddenly aware of the scars on sans arms, slashes more like, littered about with no pattern. they look frantic, and he knows that things don’t necessarily look like an emotion, but the marks feel frantic. 

“ have you... have you tried to-“ it sounds morbid coming out of wooyoung’s mouth, but if he was in the situation san is— well, for as long as he’s been in it, he’d want to kill himself too.

“we cant,” san chuckles, but he’s not laughing. “we’ve all tried. we never can. and it’s not like  we  stop ourselves from doing it, christ we’re all fucked in the head, but it’s like our brains don’t let us. we want to. but we tell ourselves that we don’t. it’s frustrating.” wooyoung doesn’t know what he means by that, and he’s not ready to find out yet either. he knows it’s part of what san isn’t telling him, though, and that scares him more than anything. san didn’t mean that his brain was telling him nice little thoughts to stop him, he meant his brain was being controlled. 

the dark circles underneath san’s eyes speak volumes that wooyoung never knew was possible.

“i can’t even imagine, san. it’s like. you’re living in your own hell.”

“welcome to the panic room,” san smirks, demented and heart broken and everything a smirk shouldn’t be. “where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you.” he sings, voice hauntingly beautiful and wooyoung wonders for a split second why he’s not more terrified of the man. 

wooyoung gulps. he’s been listening so intently that he hadn’t realized they were already seated in a lunchroom, his own food plated in front of him. it’s his  favorite.

“ what the fuck.” 

san seems to know what he means because the smirk leaves his face and he gestures to the plate. “they know what we like. if you don’t eat...” he stops himself. “wooyoung, just eat, okay?” he sighs, slurping up a bowl of jjajangmyeon in record time. 

it sounds more like an order than a plea, so wooyoung takes his time indulging in the bulgogi that tastes exactly like home.

there’s tears running down his face.

it’s not just him and san anymore. he sees the other six men at their respective tables with their respective persons; eating, chatting, acting normal. he misses his friends.

wooyoung wants to go home.

home.

he wonders if san remembers home too.

“san, do you remember home still?”

“no.” san says simply, shrugging it off as if it’s not absolutely devastating.

wooyoung’s heart crumbles in his chest. san deserves to remember home, to remember more than pain and insomnia and his favorite fucking foods that probably aren’t even his favorite foods anymore because they remind him of home, where he isn’t. 

“it’s okay, wooyoung, don’t cry. please, don’t cry,” san starts, walking over to the other side of the bench to accompany the younger. “it’s tough for the first couple weeks, but i promise everyone here right now has your best interest in mind.” 

wooyoung just nods, finding everything so hard to believe, when he hears a voice behind him.

“he’s right, yanno,” the voice says, and he turns to see a bleach blond man with a sort of mullet.

“we haven’t met properly. i’m kang ryusang, but everyone just calls me yeosang or yeo.” 

wooyoung likes him already. he seems laid back and though everyone is currently hanging on to the last remaining strand of sanity they have left, this yeo dude seems the most chill of everyone.

“hi, i’m jung wooyoung, but you can call me whatever.” he throws a half assed smile and a peace sign up at yeosang and immediately wants to punch himself.  _a peace sign, really wooyoung_?

“young-ah it is then,” yeosang grins, shrieking when a red haired man comes up behind him to poke him in the side. 

“this,” he wheezes, “is a little shit by the name of choi jongho. expert in arm wrestling, getting stoned, and being my clingy boyfriend. can you believe we can seriously do whatever we want in this place as long as we don’t—“

“yeosangie, darling, watch what you say,” jongho sing songs, though it doesn’t sound very friendly— maybe it’s because he’s glancing between the two frantically, like yeosang might say something he shouldn’t. 

“alright, alright, that’s enough you two, let the poor kid breathe,” a dark haired man laughs lightly, shaking his head at the two.  seonghwa , if wooyoung remembers correctly.

and so everyone starts to slowly introduce themselves to wooyoung, hours passing like minutes as they go back and forth showing off their talents and hobbies. it feels nice. 

there’s park seonghwa and kim hongjoong, “unrequited” (“why don’t you hug me like everyone else?” “i do!” “no you don’t, you hug them longer!”) requited lovers with completely different interests. seonghwa loves cleaning and putting things together and organization and hongjoong loves chaos, to put it simply. he loves making music, he loves reforming clothes, dancing, he loves everything. wooyoung doesn’t know how they make it work, but they do and it’s fucking adorable. 

then there’s jeong yunho and song mingi, who both seem to like each other but tip toe around it, and it’s painfully obvious even when they’re introducing themselves because they just keep looking at each other and blushing and holding hands. hell, they’re practically dating without labeling it. mingi is a certified rapper, they all claim, and he hangs out with hongjoong in the studio a lot, (jesus this place has everything, it makes wooyoung feel kind of queasy; like they want the group to feel unthreatened) and he belts out a few of his pieces while hongjoong and san hype him up. yunho sings some of the songs that hongjoong composes, and the piece called  light  is yunho’s bitch, in wooyoung’s humble fucking opinion. he’s called the golden retriever, according to the rest of the guys. 

coming in third, there’s choi jongho and kang yeosang; asexual partners in crime—and absolute savagery,wooyoung comes to find out, as yeosang has verbally destroyed what he calls “the thot line” (“if he breathes, he a thot”) of the group. apparently seonghwa needs a new tongue, wooyoung himself needs to stop wearing such thot-like clothing (ouch?), and san has absolutely no right to have any pelvic bones. jongho mentions that he’s good at basketball and played well until a leg injury left him unable to win a championship game, and yeosang likes to sing but is shy around groups though wooyoung thinks he has no right because his voice is deep and smooth and fucking  amazing and if it wasn’t for jongho he would definitely be more interested in him. but then again, jongho had also belted out some fantastic falsettos for his age even though he refuses to accept the compliments all seven others bombard him with. honestly, if wooyoung had nothing to do he would start trying to find his talents too. 

but then he remembers _choi san_. there’s a lot wooyoung doesn’t know about san. for example, behind that brooding demeanor and those dark eye circles, he’s genuinely trying to have fun when he has time. he sings and dances INCREDIBLY well, and when he laughs it sounds like heaven, but when he smiles his dimples are so deep wooyoung could swim in them. he’s flexible beyond what wooyoung thinks is humanly possible, has a three time black belt in taekwondo, and so much more.

when it’s his turn, he doesn’t know what to say.

“i uhm, i’m not that interesting i guess. not like you guys. i’m just... jung wooyoung. boring teenager who kinda likes to party sometimes, listens to music, maybe gets a little stoned once or twice a week. i don’t have any special talents. i like collecting flowers and nature and being an annoying little shit.” he blushes and looks at his hands, wishing he hadn’t been so neglectful to the plants in his  real  room now, since he’s probably never gonna see them again. he perishes the thought before he can cry any more.

“you know, this place is like. everything you could wish for, but in the most fucked up way possible so... we do kind of have a nature exhibit thing if you wanna see it?” san offers, and wooyoung might melt right there because  why is he so fucking cute?

“that sounds awesome, and i’m totally down to see it soon, but i’m really overwhelmed right now so i might just clonk out or something.” he feels horrible, especially because it’s san with his beaming smile and tired eyes, but he  really  is tired. 

it’s not a normal tired, he slept well last night, but it’s that kind of anxiety tired ”when you feel like living is overrated and you just want to sleep it off,” in his words. san understands though, thank  god , and even offers to help him search for his room.

“i’d rather keep staying in yours if that’s okay with you..?” he barely whispers, and he can already feel the heat creeping up his face. 

mingi snickers and san shoots him a death glare. 

“yeah, that’s okay with me,” a light blush dusts across sans face and he holds his hand out for wooyoung, who takes it gleefully.

the longer wooyoung traverses the hallways, the more he gets an understanding of where to go and it puts his mind more at ease. he leans against san as they take their time walking back to the cells, and he feels how tense the older man is.

“san-ah, why so tense,” he whispers, looking up at the silver tipped man sorrowfully.

“i think i figured out my fear,” is all he says, gulping. 

for san’s sake, wooyoung sure hopes it’s irrational.


	2. i’m ready for the worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> choi san finally gets to meet wooyoung. he couldn’t be more excited. san on the other hand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! just a reminder to heed the graphic violence archive warning in this chapter as it gets quite... aggressive. please stay safe <3

san didn’t necessarily lie when he said he didn’t remember home, he just... didn’t tell the whole truth. 

san doesn’t remember home because he was homeless.  san doesn’t remember home, because remembering only brings him pain.  san doesn’t remember home, because he  never had one to begin with.

so when  _choi san_ woke up on the floor of a clean hallway that he definitely didn’t fall asleep in, of course he thought it was his house. perhaps he had drunk too much and his parents found him and decided that it was far too cruel to keep letting him destroy himself, but no. of course not. because  _choi san_ doesn’t deserve to have an easy life.

because  _choi san_ lived with a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of soju in his hands at all times.

 _choi san_ never feared anything because he had nothing to lose. so when he got himself together, lifted himself off the cold ground, and searched around the building, he wasn’t expecting to be attacked by two complete strangers. after their initial scuffle, they finally realized that they were all just as confused as each other. it had been months since anyone had joined kim hongjoong and park seonghwa in the never-ending building.

he had introduced himself as  _choi san_ , absolute wreck of a human being just trying to survive; wasted on the pavement of a dirty alley one moment, sore and cold on tile flooring the next.

 _choi san_ had followed the two strangers around as they filled him in on a plan, showing him a door they had found and a key hongjoong had stolen from one of the many masked guards who watch them.

they had learned the hard way to never break the rules set in place. 

the guards weren’t the only ones who watched them. there were hidden cameras in every hallway, the only privacy being their rooms.

so when hongjoong, his lover seonghwa, and newcomer  _choi san_ arrived at the dull gray-white door, so did three others.

 _choi san_ remembers the way hongjoong’s face had paled, the way seonghwa had gripped him as tight as he could, only to be violently ripped away and thrown against the opposite wall. hongjoong had no time to finish his pleas, the key having been wrenched from his hand. in a flash, three of them were injected in the neck with a strange fluid.

 _choi san_ expected to pass out, feel fuzzy or tired, but he felt none of it.  no,  he had realized,  i can’t feel anything. 

_choi san_ never feared anything, even as he was strapped down to a gurney and operated on, fully awake. 

_choi san_ never feared anything, even though he wailed in agony until he fell unconscious from the pain of his skull being drilled into.

_choi san_ never feared anything, because he had nothing to lose.

_choi san_ never feared anything, until  jung wooyoung.

but **san** feared losing wooyoung.

—

nightmares came easy to san, it was the reason he had trouble sleeping the most. sometimes they would be normal nightmares, like turning into the things that had trapped him there. other timeshe would have sleep paralysis, where his nightmares would overlap into reality, and the things in his dreams would crawl around him, graze him with their claws, bare their sharp teeth, and growl threats into his ear.san had learned to live with it after the first few months, and was merely unbothered by the shadowed presence. more often than not, however, he would have night terrors; his whole body would thrash and contort, and the pressure of his jaw clenching was near enough to chip his teeth. his night terrors were physical, leaving him with nasty gashes on his arms and bruises from his neck to his jaw. never had anyone been there to experience the sight, and never has he remembered his night terrors; for both, san was thankful. 

—

when san met wooyoung, it wasn’t in a way he was expecting whatsoever. technically because he wasn’t expecting to meet  anyone  making loud noise at three in the fucking morning, and he was  most definitely  not expecting to see that person at the same door he had tried to approach almost a year prior. 

of course he fucking snapped, why wouldn’t he have?

he hadn’t  _ meant  _ to push wooyoung so hard he fell, he hadn’t  _ meant  _ to partly enjoy the rush of being aggressive for the first time in a while, it just  happened.  he snapped out of it when mingi’s voice broke through the hallway, _thank god_ , because  san  _ really  _ hadn’t wanted to hurt wooyoung. wooyoung reminded him of himself, naive and vulnerable in a place he didn’t know. so he let mingi talk the dark haired boy down, help him up, and half heartedly introduce him to everyone.

since san bumped into him first, he found it only reasonable to take the younger under his wing and walked with him to his room. 

when wooyoung first slept next to san on the cramped mattress, the older man had not a single nightmare. for six hours, san had slept peacefully for the first time since his arrival.

—

the second day of wooyoung’s presence in sans life is when he knows he’s fucked.

he doesn’t _mean_ to scowl at mingi when he pokes fun at wooyoung‘s affections for the him. he doesn’t _mean_ to focus on the way his face lights up or frowns as he’s listening to the way the others introduce themselves. he doesn’t _mean_ to feel happy and safe around him. but he does. 

it’s not the feelings that are the problem,  san knows that much. if it were the feelings, he would be in danger almost every night from feeling safe around his  friends.  it is, however, being aware of said feelings and acknowledging that they are more intense than what he feels for most of his friend group.  that  is when san _knows_ he’s screwed. 

and  that  is when  _choi san_ comes out to play. 

_choi san_ ; chaotic, charming, devil. san decided himself to name the dark side of himself using his surname, mainly because coming up with a stupid name for something that’s a part of you is... stupid. but also because  _choi san_ is his past. _choi san_ is everything san no longer wants to be. _choi_ is his family name, and like his counterpart, his family was evil. his family kicking him out had almost turned him evil. _plus,_ _ he just really fucking hates being called choi san_.

 _choi san_ gets what he wants, no matter how much san pleads and begs for it.

the first time he had encountered his evil counterpart was... strange to say the least. see,  _choi san_ had a peculiar way of letting himself be known.

first, his neck would crack, contorting in an almost impossible manner, as if trying to set himself free of the shared vessel that is san. then, he would speak. san has absolutely no fucking clue what “surprise, hala” means, but when _choi san_ says it—deep and raspy and drawn out, with his eyes rolled in the back of his head, it sounds like a warning to fucking run far away.

the only people that have experienced dealing with  _choi san_ are the oldest two; seonghwa and hongjoong, and yeosang.

seonghwa and hongjoong got off almost unscathed, with the exception of a few scratches, but yeosang was not so lucky.

san  remembers the feeling of being stuck, of being trapped in his own body, watching as he nearly gouged his friends eye out. the only trace of the attack ever happening is a pink blotchy scar encasing his upper right eye and part of his ear.

he didn’t approach the three of them for weeks. 

—

when san feels his neck start to twitch while he’s laying next to wooyoung, he panics.

_no. no, please, not now. not now.  he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know._

of course,  _choi san_ doesn’t care if wooyoung knows or not. if anything, it satisfies him more that he  doesn’t,  that _he won’t feel any sympathy or understanding. that he will only feel_ _fear and hopefully hatred_.

san can feel himself grinning so widely it hurts, and he can’t help but to think how good it would feel to just _let it go_ , especially when he sees the unmarked tanned skin of wooyoung’s thigh peeking past the blanket and has to literally grab his own hand to stop himself from  clawing at the supple flesh.

_ fuck. _

“wooyoung, wooyoung please wake up please...” san chokes out, body twitching sporadically. san has held himself back many times before, but it _always,_ _ always  hurts  so fucking bad and he’s  so  _ _tired but this is someone new. this is someone_ —

“sannie..?”

he shudders.  _thank god_.

“w-wooyoung, you gotta... you gotta wake up, you need to get away from me or else i’m gonna hurt you really bad.”

“san-ah, you’re scaring me... why are you saying this stuff, is this a fucking prank or something because—“

there’s a hand on wooyoung’s thigh, and it’s gripping,  _hard_.

“ _surpriseee_...  no, no. no no no fuck, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry i didn’t tell you sooner i didn’t know, please. please you gotta believe me i can’t h- _haaaalaaaa_ -help it, i can’t stop it, i’m not—“  _holding him in hurts so bad..._

“s-san, you’re hurting my leg, please let go... i don’t want to have to hurt you.” he can feel wooyoung gripping the wrist that’s holding his thigh, and san doesn’t know how the fuck the younger does it, but something in him  _snaps_.

he hums, deep and low in his throat, a near rumble, right into wooyoung’s ear. san can feel how badly wooyoung is shaking, and it makes him want to sob.

“ _you think_ _ you  can hurt  __me_?”  he chokes out, pained laughter ringing throughout the room. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,”  san whispers, throat tight. he can feel tears running down his face and he thinks he might look _absolutely fucking_ _insane_ , a too wide to be human smile and blood that should _definitely_ not be blood pouring out of the whites of his eyes.

he hears the sound of splitting skin, and wooyoung’s whimpers turn to soft cries.

his fingertips are wet around the thigh in his hand.

“you don’t know who you’re dealing with, a-asshole,” the younger stutters, and the real san almost wants to be bitter, almost wants to laugh and tell him that he’s wrong, almost wants to yell at him for being soft and sweet and asking if he’s okay instead of  running  like he asked, but he doesn’t have time because he’s suddenly he’s on the floor and wooyoung is gone. 

and then, in a flash,  so is _san_.

—

“bitch,”  _choi san_ swears under his breath, cracking his neck wildly. he never cared enough about himself to worry about simple stupid things like bones. 

he stands up, and maybe he’s a little impressed with how wooyoung was smart enough to remember the key and actually leave the cell, but then he pulls the door and it opens and he remembers that wooyoung wasn’t smart enough to realize that he could lock it from the outside too.

he sighs, digging his nails into his wrist and slashing the skin.  _that’s for letting him get away ._

 _san_ is quite irritating, really. he’s supposed to be on _his_ side, and here he is having...  _feelings. gag me with a spoon, who has time for feelings? not choi san that’s for sure._

nonetheless, he steps out into the hallway, listening intently. he can hear wooyoung’s heartbeat and not to sound morbid or anything,  _but he would do anything to rip it out of his chest and eat it._

_not raw, obviously, he’s not an animal. chill_.

he walks slowly—carefully— down the hallway, the beating of wooyoung’s heart so close he can hear it thrumming in his eardrums like a melody. 

he turns the corner and then there’s wooyoung; pale, shaky, tear streaked, doe eyed little wooyoung. 

_choi san_ almost kind of maybe sorta gets why san likes him.  _almost_.

wooyoung needs to be protected, needs to be taken care of, because _he’s just easy_. not to sound condescending or anything, that’s just what he thinks.

_like, come on, he asked to hug san because he needed physical contact to sleep. he definitely had stuffed animals and probably a night light. pathetic_.

he won’t need anything when _choi san_ is done with him anyway.

sometimes _choi san_ forgets that the others exist, so he’s not particularly happy when he finally has his hands around a throat only to be brutally thrown to the ground by three pairs of hands. don’t get him wrong, he’s stronger than the average human, which is why he could’ve hurt wooyoung alone, but he’s not stronger than more than one average human;  _a tragic flaw_ he thinks.

“god, i’m so tired of you three ruining everything,” he groans, body shaking against the cold tile floor.

“what the  _fuck_ is wrong with him,” wooyoung all but screeches, and he smirks, accomplished.

“too much. too fucking much, young-ah. ‘s how i got my “birthmark.” _surprise, not really a birthmark.”_ _ ah, memories._

“ _supriiiiseeee_ ,” _choi san_ chokes out, cackling like its the funniest joke he’s ever told. 

“and that’s our cue to put you the fuck back to sleep. poor san is going to hate everything tomorrow. including himself.”

hongjoong hums, looking down at _choi san_ with a scowl on his face. then he kicks the side of his head.  _hard_.

_praise be whatever the fuck made it impossible for them to die_ , he guesses. and for _choi san’s_ ability to reform his bone structure. _choi san_ doesn’t refer to him as a tiny gremlin for nothing, because hongjoong had been wanting to put him to sleep like that for a long time. 

—

sadly, bone reformation doesn’t mean the pain is fixed too, so when  _san_ wakes up with a sore neck, fresh slashes on his wrists, and a boot shaped bruise on the side of his head, he is in _immense_ pain.

“fuck...” oh, and his voice is nearly gone.

san doesn’t really want to know what happened last night because all he remembers is getting into bed with wooyoung and that’s it.

“well good morning to you, sanshine,” seonghwa smiles, though it’s not his usual happy painful one.

“what... what did i do..? please tell me i didn’t do anything to—“

“wooyoung? oh, nothing. except for leave bruises on his thighs and wrists, a gash on his left thigh, bruises all around his throat, and maybe just a teensy bit of permanent brain scarring. seriously, it’s probably best not to go near him right now because he’s kind of in shock and we aren’t telling him anything because we think it’s your job to do it. you also know more about it internally than we do, even though you don’t remember it all.”

“oh, shit, i hate myself. i really really hate myself. did he do this to me, then?” he points at his cheek and the scratches on his arms.

“nope. sore neck and slashes are from you again, and the bruise is from joongie. quite a beautiful bruise if i may say so myself. you definitely deserved it.”

san grimaces. “firstly, no you mayn’t. secondly, you’re probably not wrong.” he sits up with a groan, his head and jaw absolutely aching.

“he definitely isn’t wrong. a bad bitch can only handle being called a tiny gremlin for so long before they resort to chaos,” hongjoong shrugs.

“you could’ve just told me to stop calling you a... short 80’s movie horror creature and i would’ve.”

“actually i don’t hate when  _you_ do it. it’s different with him. your alter ego is out for blood. literally and figuratively. should’ve learned sooner to not test a tiny height-repressed stoned, sleep deprived gay dad. felt nice. sorry for the bruise it left you though. thought it would’ve gone away with the weird bone repair thing,” hongjoong mumbles, picking at his nails.

“...is it funny that i’m so broken i’ve given up on having mental breakdowns because of him? my mental breakdowns were always a way for me to try ending it but, like. i cant end it here anyway so what’s the point. what’s the point of freaking out when you can’t do anything about it. hurting will just make it hurt even worse,” san can feel the tears, real actual salty tears, running down his face and the two engulf him in a hug.

_ san doesn’t think there’s anyone more suicidal in the world than him and his 6 ragtag friends. hopefully wooyoung doesn’t want to die just yet. _

_ if he does, san doesn’t blame him. _

_ it’s weird for san, knowing that if he had the chance, he would actually do it with no hesitation. _

h _e’s just tired of living._

—

bonding over wanting to die was almost comically hilarious to san. _like that one vine with the dude who goes “welcome to mcdonald’s how may i take your order?” and he says “i wanna fuckin’_ _die,” and the response is just a short drawn out “saaame,”_

take that vine, for example, and then make it not a skit and actually suicidal.

that’s how it felt for san and the others, before wooyoung came along.

they would all sit at a table, make their self deprecating jokes, show off the scars from the punishments they got, and just double over in laughter when yeosang says with his whole chest “if i ever get the chance, i’m shooting everyone in this building and then myself, win-win for us, lose-lose for the bitches keeping us here,” and mingi responds with “why wouldn’t you just kill the bad guys and then use the key to get us all out?” 

it’s morbidly funny until yunho, with fingers pointed towards himself, responds with “because this guy is not going to be able to handle the outside world with PTSD and a crippling fear of people and being kidnapped again. i would simply rather die.”

san might as well  _be_ the fucking amygdala because his laugh turns into a choked sob as soon as the words leave yunho’s mouth.

“fuck, there’s so much wrong with us,” jongho sobs, and san wants to Choi San The Entire Fucking Planet because jongho is just a baby— not really, he’s just two years younger, but he doesn’t deserve this. none of them do, but especially not choi jongho. he had more ahead of his life than most of them did. in fact, _if anyone belongs in here, it’s san himself. alone_ , he thinks.

for the first time in probably ever, they all break down together. holding on like they’re each others lifeline. in the metaphorical sense, they really are. though they can’t die, they can ground themselves, snap themselves out of it and for the time being, just admit that being alive is better than being dead.

—

san walks on eggshells around the 7 of them for the next week. he knows he should explain everything to wooyoung, and he’s tried— _trust_ , he’s  _tried_.  but whenever he goes to approach the younger, his face pales and he can see the way the boy flinches. so he opts against it for now.

that is until wooyoung shows up at sans purple door with a weary sigh and timid glances.

“we need to talk, san.” his neck is almost healed, the bruising now faded to light greens, yellows, and blues instead of the angry red, purple and black prints it was before. his thigh is now home to three dark pink scars. san opens the sliding door and moves to the side.

“yeah,” san gulps. “yeah, we do. ” 


	3. so frightening, face whitening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wooyoung takes care of san when he needs it the most.

* * *

fear.  fear is all wooyoung had felt the night he fell asleep next to san. he  trusted  him for fucks sake, and what did he get in return? a concussion, bruises and three gnarly looking gashes on his thigh. wooyoung is definitely starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t be so gullible all the time. 

he knows san’s avoiding him. he just doesn’t know  why.  _as if san is the fucking victim here, right? as if san has some evil dark side that made him do it or something. bullshit, _wooyoung thinks _. if anything, he should be avoiding san_. the problem with that, though, is that no one else seems to be fully on his side. it’s like this one heavy, looming, inside secret that everyone but wooyoung himself knows. he’s been confused since yeosang mentioned his scar, since he saw hongjoong kick san’s face so hard the bone popped, since he saw the way san spasmed against the ground. he has  so many questions  and he  needs answers. 

so here he is, after a week of being sick and tired of everyone walking on eggshells, walking to the familiar purple sliding door he misses so much.

he knocks on the glass, unintentionally flinching when he sees the way san’s head jerks up. 

he looks like a fucking mess.

don’t get him wrong, san looked cute when wooyoung first met him, even with his dark circles and tired movements, but now he just looks  miserable.  his eyes are red and puffy, making his under eye circles noticeably more defined, his nose looks irritated and his hair is oily from having not showered. the gashes on san’s arm are scarred over, and the boot print on the side of his face is swollen and the opposite of the bruising on wooyoung’s neck.

“we need to talk,” wooyoung says, simply.

“yeah,” wooyoung can see his adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “we do.”

san opens the sliding door and moves to the side, waiting. 

wooyoung stands for a minute before letting out an exasperated sigh and walking into the room and sitting on the bed, hesitantly.

“so... there’s a lot you don’t know. about me... about this place,” san starts, and he looks almost...  scared?  wooyoung scoffs.

“yeah, no shit. but why are you acting like the scared one when i’m the one who—“

“wooyoung, _please_. just... just hear me out. _please_ , try to take everything i’m about to say seriously. no matter how fucking crazy it sounds, i need you to take it in,  seriously . if you don’t believe me, you can ask the others and they’ll vouch for me.” 

san looks like he’s going to sob, and the part of wooyoung that isn’t (reasonably,for lack of context) condescendingly angry just wants to wrap him up in a burrito, hold him in his arms, and let him cry. and maybe play with his hair too.

“okay... okay, i’m listening,” he whispers, biting his lip.

—

when wooyoung bitterly joked about san having an evil side, that’s all it was supposed to be. a stupid  joke. but now, even with all his skepticism, he can’t not believe him.

not when san is crumbling in his arms, sobbing like its the end of the world and there’s nothing he can do about it. san is shaking like a leaf, covered in snot and sweat and tears and it’s fucking disgusting but wooyoung doesn’t care because san  needs  this. he’s not sure if there’s ever a time where san broke down to anybody, but the way it looks, he probably hasn’t. or maybe he just needed to break down to someone who doesn’t constantly make self deprecating jokes at the lunch table or understand the feeling of wanting to die. maybe he has broken down but maybe so did  everyone else too.

san is heavy in his arms, his arms and legs wrapped around wooyoung like a fucking koala, but wooyoung just holds him up by his thighs and runs a hand through his hair, letting him pour everything out. he leans against the wall with the fake outside window. maybe wooyoung is a child at heart but sometimes people just need to be held. not just grandparents and babies, but actual people, too. and he curses societal standards and weight because he doesn’t care if he’s nearly 20, 5”8, and thick thighed, he misses being held like this, too. wooyoung remembers the way his mother would sit on his bed with him, from the time he was 5 until he was 12 and rock him to sleep. back and forth, back and forth until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted into dreamland.

so, he does what she used to do. he sits down on the bed, san still clinging to him, and rocks back and forth, rubbing his back and playing with the silver ends of his hair. it’s gotten long since he first met him, he’s notices. he hopes san is planning on growing it out, because he would look beautiful with a little sprout ponytail.

san’s sentences are strung together and don’t make sense like they used to, but it doesn’t matter because wooyoung  understands  in a way that helps san. wooyoung understands in a way that makes him able to say “ _it’s okay,_ ” even if he’s not quite sure it is, because he’s just so gullible that he wants to believe that it will be.

“a-and i’m so  tired,  wooyoung... i just want it to stop. i just  want to die. _why won’t they just let me die_?”  he squeaks, and wooyoung’s heart breaks.

“it’s okay, san-ah... it’s okay... i’m here. i’m right here, okay? i’ll be here. don’t... try not to... uhm... the things you say, the way you feel, it’s valid. i don’t want to tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way or that you’re wrong, because i’ve been in your shoes before. not like this, never like this, but i’ve been where you are. i have my scars too. figuratively and literally. but i will say that i’m here for you to talk about it. i’m not in a position to stop you, to guilt trip you, but i can say with certainty, that if you really had the chance... if you really could... _i know_ you would think more deeply about it. i don’t mean to sound like a cheesy fucking therapist, but you don’t want to die, san. you just want the pain to stop. so did i.”

sans sobs have reduced to occasional sniffles and he sort of wants to laugh because “no offense, but you totally did sound like a cheesy fucking therapist because if i had the chance i would still blow my brains out, _but_ i _would_ take a minute thank jung wooyoung for his wise words and blind faith in me instead of just going “same, bro.” for once.”

wooyoung doesn’t know if he should cry or not because he doesn’t really find it  funny  but he knows san is just trying to lighten the mood. instead he just huffs disapprovingly and shakes his head. 

“not funny.”

“i know. ‘m sorry. i get used to making quips like that a lot now.” san sighs.

their foreheads are pressed together and san looks so tired but he’s so messy and wooyoung hates his room and was planning on sleeping with san tonight anyway, just for protective reasons. if it happens again tonight— which san mentions that it  might , in the middle of his rushed, messy, explanation— he knows more about what to do now and how to deal with it. he’ll still be scared shitless, but there’s no use running away if  _ choi san  _ will catch him anyway. wooyoung wants to be there for san.

“do you wanna take a shower together..?” wooyoung blurts.

san raises a brow. “well, look who’s gotten bold... i mean, i knew i was hot but...” he jokes. 

wooyoung blushes. “shut up, you look like a family of rats took refuge in your hair,” he starts. he wipes a stray tear from sans cheek. “just _let me take care of you, okay?_ ”

“...alright,” san whispers.

it’s unfair, wooyoung thinks, how much san has had to depend on himself. wooyoung _likes_ taking care of people, _likes_ making people feel loved and safe and comfortable. he talks too much and too loud and gets overly excited, and for being a people repellent, _he’s a damn good social magnet too_ , he thinks.

“okay... you gonna keep staring at me like that and make me kiss you stupid, or are you gonna make me carry you to the shower?” wooyoung knows he’s testing the waters, knows this could end horribly, but he swears there’s  something  between them. he felt it the moment san offered his room to him, and over the past week he feels like the others might’ve been dropping hints too. really, he’s not exactly sure but he wants to be right.

“who said you couldn’t do both..?”

and so he does. he leans in, and gives san the best kiss he can muster. it’s soft and sweet and gentle and  sad  but it’s undeniably them, and sans mouth slots perfectly with wooyoung’s. after a few minutes, he pulls away and san looks at him with stars in his eyes. 

“you’re so strong, sannie... understand? you’re fighting so hard, trying so much to keep everyone safe, to keep  yourself  safe. remember that. you’re a survivor. you are  good. you  are good. say it.”

“wooyoung, just because you’re holding me doesn’t mean i’m a ba—“

“say it.”

“...i am good,” san sighs, playfully rolling his eyes. 

“yeah. you are,” he throws him an exaggerated smile and gets up, walking over to the restroom and leaning san against the sink.

“ah, to use my legs again,” he grins, stretching them out.

“yeah yeah, you lucky bastard, just lose the clothing and get in,” wooyoung mumbles, yanking his shirt and jeans off.

“pushy, wonder what’s gonna happen,” san winks playfully, mirroring wooyoung’s actions.

“absolutely _nothing_ is going down in the shower, san-ah. come on now, we have morals. i think... do we have morals here..?” wooyoung questions, stripping himself of his boxer briefs.

“uhhhh... let me think— no. no morals are needed here, but i appreciate the question. i would also agree that nothing is going to happen, because i am _way_ too tired to do anything,” san admits, ridding himself of his final pieces of clothing before stepping into the warm misty abyss that is  the shower.

the atmosphere feels different when wooyoung joins san, and he’s sure that the older can tell. everything feels so much more  intimate in a way that neither of them are used to. it’s not a sexual intimacy, just more of a relaxing, personal state of _being_ between them. they stare at each other for a while before wooyoung grabs the washcloth he set up next to the body wash and looks at san, blushing. “i wanna wash you. not to sound weird or anything, i literally just like taking care of people and not that you  need to be taken care of or something like that i just—“ 

“woo, slow down and take a breath, little buffalo. you can do whatever you want, okay? honestly i’m kind of lazy and wouldn’t mind at all...”

wooyoung just smiles, squirting a reasonable amount of the peach-lilac body wash onto the washcloth before sudsing it up.

“okay, close your eyes. don’t need me to burn any more than they’re gonna from all that crying we did,” wooyoung pouts, swiping the washcloth gently over his face, using the retractable shower head to rinse the suds away.

wiping down san’s body is a guilty pleasure in itself, wooyoung thinks, because san is leaning against the wall and his eyes are closed and he looks so content and he lets out soft hums when wooyoung ditches the washcloth to massage the tense muscles of sans neck and shoulders. he presses on a particular spot of san’s neck when he lets out a rough groan, that honestly sounds more like a moan than anything else but wooyoung _isn’t gonna bring it up because if san doesn’t want it to go there it’s not gonna go there, point blank_. wooyoung feels calm and happy enough as it is like this. 

he’s only washed san’s back and chest so far, and he’s not sure if he’s... supposed to wash  more too, which he wouldn’t mind doing at all because he’s down to do _anything that relaxes san_ , and it’s weird for him how totally not sexual the thought of something inherently sexual is.

“do you want me to wash...  _ you  _ too,” he asks, the tips of his ears turning red, much like yunho’s used to, except for wooyoung it’s from actual embarrassment and not a special magic trick.

“if you’re comfortable doing that, you can, otherwise i’ll do it if you aren’t.”

wooyoung smiles and grabs the washcloth he abandoned, and leans against san’s chest, carefully washing the rest of him down. “like i said, i wanna take care of you today.” 

he can feel the way san’s heartbeat speeds up and the way he mindlessly stutters his hips up into his hand, and he thinks it’s _absolutely adorable_ the way san apologizes every time, so he gives up the careful act and fists san’s cock until he paints his stomach with the white fluid, panting heavily.

wooyoung doesn’t mention it, and instead lets the hot water wash the semi-translucent mess down the drain.

“gonna wash your hair now, ‘s that okay?” wooyoung asks, grabbing the shampoo from the shelf beside them. 

a soft hum and a nod is all wooyoung gets in return, so he takes it as a yes and gently scrubs the shampoo into san’s hair. 

call the younger man a crybaby all you want, but when san tilts his head back into wooyoung’s touch as he massages the shampoo and conditioner into his hair, it might have made a couple of tears fall. just a couple. or more.

wooyoung thinks san deserves so much more than the world played him. the world gave him a joker card in the game called life, and he didn’t deserve it at all.

“you like when i massage your scalp, huh?”

“yeah,” san hums. “feels good. feels like _home_... you feel so nice, wooyoungie. you’re good too.” san mumbles and suddenly it might just be san’s turn to repay the favor because wooyoung is going to sob like a little bitch. but not now, because san is calm and comfortable and doesn’t need to worry about soothing him.

they stay as they are for a long couple of minutes, arms wrapped around each other as the now lukewarm water pours over them. their legs are tired, but wooyoung definitely doesn’t want to move because when they’re here, _nothing is bad. nothing is hurting them here_. but the water is getting cold and the towels are fresh and fluffed from the dryer and oh-so inviting, so wooyoung begrudgingly pulls san out of the shower and wraps him in a towel and a robe, before he does so himself, because _san is a bad bitch and deserves a pretty purple fluffy hot robe_.

when they’re finally settled and clothed, wooyoung is resting on sans chest, taking in the sound of his heartbeat. he really likes san’s heartbeat. it reminds him that they’re _alive_. that they’re alive and they’re okay and even though they _aren’t_ okay, they still have each other.

“san, how do i tell the difference between the night terrors and... this,” wooyoung asks, tracing idle shapes across san’s clothed chest.

“well, i usually end up hurting myself both in night terrors and from... it. but apparently with my night terrors i scream really loud, and i don’t do that with the other thing.” san stares at the ceiling, not daring to look wooyoung in the eyes.

wooyoung nods, his hand coming up to cup san’s cheek gently.

“sannie, look at me,” he pouts, lower lip sticking out adorably.

san looks down and wooyoung can see the gloss of his eyes, the tears building up again.

“i’m not gonna leave, okay? i’m not gonna leave you. we’re gonna get through this together.” he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on san’s bruised cheek.

“thank you. for everything. you did a lot for me today, and i appreciate it. i’ve never felt as comfortable in my life as i have with you. it’s unhealthy, i’ll admit, since we only just met like two weeks ago, but you mean a lot to me.” san whispers, carding his hand through wooyoung’s hair.

“i feel the same way. it felt nice taking care of someone for once. i like making people feel good. my friends back home never treated me as good as you guys have. nobody has ever liked me the way you do... it’s kind of hard to believe. the fucking irony that someone only likes me when i’m gonna die.” he smiles, bitter and sad and everything san wishes he could take away.

“you’re not gonna die. i’ve been alive this long, haven’t i? haven’t we? you’re not gonna die. i won’t let that happen.”

“me either,” wooyoung whispers, curling closer to the warm body that is san. “it’s late. we should sleep. we should  try .”

san hums a noise of affirmation, and as they drift off, limbs intertwined, wooyoung hopes that san feels more at peace. 

—

wooyoung knows something is wrong the moment san bolts upright, a strangled noise coming from the back of his throat.

“san... san, hey—” he tries, sitting up slowly.

san  _ screams _ . loud, broken, devastating wails that get caught in his throat every so often. he screams and begs and pleads, kicking and grabbing onto anything including wooyoung’s healing thigh. wooyoung hisses, looking around frantically for anything to help san to wake up.

“ _ don’t... don’t take him away from me ,”  _ san sobs, and wooyoung freezes. _“ no no no don’t open the door don’t take him there i’m sorry, w-wooyoung i’m sorry_ _!_ ” his voice grows louder, and he thrashes harder.

“san, san, shhh it’s okay. it’s okay it’s alright i’m here, i’m not gonna leave-“

a sob rips out of sans mouth as he comes to, dazed, pushing full force into wooyoung with tears flowing down his face.

“ _ don’t touch me d-don’t touch me, you hurt him _ !” san cries out, repeatedly, and wooyoung has to lock his arms and legs around the fragile boy to stop him from harming the both of them.

“sannie, san-ah, it’s me! it’s me, it’s wooyoung... it’s woo. you’re okay, it was just a dream, it’s just a dream, everything’s alright,” he whispers, running a hand through san’s hair and rocking him as he comes to, aware this time.

“they tried to hurt you,” he sobs, his arms grasping wooyoung’s forearm. “they were dragging you out of the room and t-they said it was my fault, they said they were gonna make me hurt you!”

“baby, baby just take a deep breath okay? look at me... san-ah, _look_ at me.”

san looks up, face blotchy and eyes brimming with tears. 

“you see me, yeah? you can see me?” he asks, thumbing the side of sans face gently.

san nods.

“okay, now look around. what do you see? what do you know about me that no one else does?”

san looks around, and wooyoung sees his eyes move back and forth frantically. he must’ve been in his room in the dream, wooyoung thinks; everything would look the same then, which is what’s causing him to glance around like he is. “hey, _heyheyhey_ ,” he rubs the side of sans forearm, coaxing him to relax. “okay. alright don’t look around, think about the next question, can you do that for me? what do you know about me that no one else does?”

“uh... t-tattoo. tattoo. you— wooyoung has a tattoo on his side... his side— let me see your side,” san stutters, squirming out of wooyoung’s grip to turn around.

wooyoung hums and lifts his shirt up,  _ ad amicus aras  _ standing out proud and bold and cursive against the tan of his rib cage.

“yes. yes, that. okay... okay,” wooyoung can feel it when san  finally  relaxes against him, head resting on his chest this time around. “i’m sorry. ‘m sorry for not believing you. i-i do now...” he sniffles, wrapping his smaller arms around wooyoung and pulling him close. 

“it’s okay. it’s okay, san-ah. my big, brave mountain... sometimes it’s okay crumble, or even cause an avalanche.”

wooyoung wants nothing more than to protect the man in his lap.

“you’re so cheesy but it makes me want to cry. i love it.” san says leaning up to kiss the mole under wooyoung’s eye, and gives a chaste kiss to the one on wooyoung’s lower lip. 

it makes his heart feel warm.

“i read somewhere that moles are places where your past lover has kissed you, so i made sure to kiss them too. mainly because they’re cute, but also because i want them to stay in your next life, too,” he continues. “do you think we’ll have better luck in our next lives..?” his voice is soft and sweet and everything that san wasn’t the very first time they had met and it makes wooyoung feel...  _ violent  _ to say the least.

it makes wooyoung feel like  _ ripping apart the guts of every fucker who works here, force feeding it to them raw, and then hongjoong-ing their faces over and over and over and over again with a pair of heavy demonias _ , to say the most.

“we don’t have to worry about our future yet. if anyone tries to hurt you now, i will fucking _kill_ them, san,” wooyoung is even slightly terrified at the way he says it, laughing bitterly. “i will tear them apart.”

“what happened to my sweet little youngie, huh?” san laughs quietly.

“well being locked in a _fucking_ torture house that tries to torment your _fucking_ boyfriend does bring about some _fucking_ rage, in my humble _fucking_ opinion,” he smiles sweetly down at san, who smirks. 

“i have many things to say. first of all, boyfriend? cute. yes. second of all, god you’re sexy when you wanna murder someone. that was a lot of f-bombs you said there...”

wooyoung blushes.

“shut up and go back to sleep, asshole. i’ll be right here, holding you through it, okay?” 

they both sigh heavily, and san nods.

“i get why you can’t sleep now. it’s hard for me too.”

—

when wooyoung wakes up, san is gone.

“san..?” he looks around the room, seemingly empty and sighs. he gets dressed, grabs the key to the door and leaves, having a much better knowledge of the building since he first traveled it with san. 

as he walks to the lunch room, he hears the overlapping voices of the 6 (hopefully 7, wooyoung thinks) boys, tones unhappy. 

when he finally enters, there’s no sign of san and everyone looks towards him, voices suddenly off. 

“uh... hi? where’s san...?”

“wooyoung...” yeosang starts, looking around anxiously. 

“he’s in trouble. like. a lot of trouble,” mingi whispers, tall frame leaning against an equally tall yunho’s.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean, _mingi_?” the taller man flinches.

“sorry,” he mumbles under his breath, hiding his face in yunho’s shoulder.

“okay, everyone calm down. listen... i don’t know for sure where he went, but hwa and i have a pretty good idea,” hongjoong starts, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“follow me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this chapter didn’t come out the way i wanted it to, perhaps, but i still enjoyed writing it nonetheless!! any feedback is much appreciated and i hope you all enjoy this late 1:03am update haha 💕💕


End file.
